Page 43 of Mischief Maker
“Mother,” Kireth warns.
She chortles. “And you, my wayward child, got caught in the web of a mortal. You found your chosen one, when none of these other high and mighty gods never could have dreamed of it.”
The god who tried to pull up my dress before glares in my direction. “Kireth, of all of us?” he says, spitting on the floor.
“Despite my spell, you remembered her.” Lucia shakes her head, wearing a rueful smile. “I’ve done my best, but you’ve defeated me.”
Kireth squeezes my hand tighter. “Are you going to let us leave now?”
“But you are an immortal,” she says, tilting her head at him like he’s an odd bug she found on the ground. “Now that you’re here, you cannot leave, just like Terano cannot leave, either.” There’s a wistfulness in her voice. “And now, neither can I.”
“You’ve been forgotten, too,” Kireth says. She just nods her head in my direction, as if she expected it. As if now that I’m dead, there’s no one left to remember her name.
“Are you saying I can’t take him back with me?” I demand. “After all this?”
Lucia shrugs. “You are mortal. You can open and close these doors as you like and cross over the threshold.” She grins widely at Kireth. “But immortals? We are bound here for the rest of time.”
Chapter Seventeen
Kireth
I’m stuck here.
I can’t return to the house with the sagging roof. I can’t tend to the crops, or pet Petal’s head, or taste my Faela’s delicious cunt.
I can’t go home.
Her hands cling tight to mine. “That can’t be right,” she says, taking a step closer to Lucia. “He has to be able to come with me. I came all this way for him. You sent me here! You told me I could get him back!”
She is fierce, my Faela. But all the life has drained out of me. There is no defying oblivion.
“I did, didn’t I?” says Lucia thoughtfully. She rubs her chin, tilting her head. “Perhaps, if Kireth were mortal like you, he could step through the door.”
Faela stomps her foot. “But he’s not! We all know that. He’s...” She turns to me. “He’s a god.”
Then it occurs to me what my mother is trying to say.
“If I were to give up immortality...” I bring Faela tight against my side. “Could I go then?”
Lucia’s face transforms into a smile. “I knew I’d created you to have quicker wits than that,” she says proudly. Then her tone grows more serious. “You could. You would be shackled to a mortal life, Kireth. You would grow old and die, as you never have.”
Faela is speechless. I wonder what it would be like to get old. To age as mortals do, to watch my body change and deteriorate, to look death in the eyes and fall into it.
“Kireth,” Faela whispers. “You can’t.” Her hand clenches mine tight.
I squeeze hers back. “But I can.”
Yes, I can stay with my farm girl for as long as our short lives will allow. I can love her until she’s old and gray and we have a different dog with a different name.
“And I will give it up,” I say with a certainty. “I will throw my immortality away, if it means we can go home.”
My mother gives me a sad smile. “I thought that might be what you chose.”
“But you would lose everything!” Faela’s eyes are red with unshed tears. “You would die someday. You would become?—”
“Like you?” I push some of her rogue brown hair behind her ear. “I can imagine no better thing.”
Tilting her chin up, I lean down and brush my lips over hers in a brief, gentle promise of what might come later. Her pulse speeds up under my hand at just this small touch. How wonderful it will be to spend a lifetime teasing her this way.
